Temptation
by frukforever
Summary: It's one of those Fridays when Francis has to go to get the drunken Briton from the bar, but there's something different about Arthur this time. And Francis finds the temptation to be too big. / T for Arthur's mouth and a few implications of sex. Nothing general.


It was just a regular Friday night. Francis was sitting on his couch, watching TV mindlessly, his long fingers curled around a glass of wine. He could be out with his friends, but he didn't feel like doing so. He just wanted to relax for once. A sigh leaving his lips, he sipped from the glass, humming in approval. He had once again managed to pick the best wine from the store, and he was glad of his talent when it came to wine.

Just as he was about to lift his feet on the table and lean back against the couch, his phone rang. In the relaxed state of mind he was in, the ringtone sounded more like some annoying bird cawing, ruining his perfect evening. With a frustrated growl, he set the glass down and took his phone from his pocket.

"Âllo, oui?"

"Franny, mi amigo! I didn't call at a bad time, did I?"

A sigh left Francis' lips as he stood up from the couch, stretching himself a bit. He already had a pretty good idea what the other needed him to do.

"Non, non, you didn't. What's the matter?"

"Oh, well, you see… I am out drinking with Gilbert, Alfred and Arthur-"

"Arthur passed out?" The Frenchman interrupted, walking to the vestibule to put on his shoes. It was always like this; when Arthur passed out or became too drunk for the others to bear him, he was the one who had to come and get him home. And all he got from Arthur as thank you was yelling at the morning, even after he gave him some coffee and painkillers to ease his hangover.

"Sí! Thank you Franny, you are a true friend! We are at the bar near to Gilbert's place!" the Spaniard said, not bothering to ask if it was okay for Francis to come and get the Englishman. Well, he didn't need to ask; when it came to Arthur, Francis was always ready to help him.

It took only about twenty minutes to reach the bar Antonio had been talking about. As soon as he stepped in, the sound of Alfred and Gilbert singing loudly filled his ears. The two of them never seemed to skip a karaoke night. Looking around the bar, he finally spotted the table where Antonio was sitting, the passed out Briton leaning against the table.

Flashing a small smile at the Spanish man, Francis lifted the drunken Arthur into his arms, holding him close so he wouldn't drop him.

"Gracias!" he could hear Antonio calling after him as he turned his back, leaving the noisy bar with the other tightly in his protective hold

"Frog…", Arthur murmured quietly, his voice slurred and mumbled, but for Francis it wasn't hard to understand him. After all, frog was the word he heard the most coming from the other.

"It's me… Don't worry, I'm going to take you home…", Francis murmured quietly as he put the Englishman on the passenger's seat, fastening his seatbelt before driving them to his home. Normally he would drive Arthur to the Brit's home and stay over the night to make sure everything was alright in the morning, but now they were closer to his own home, so he decided to take him there.

As he parked the car on the driveway and lifted Arthur into his arms again, he didn't notice the other one had his eyes open. Normally he stayed unconscious until the morning, and he thought that was the case today too.

He soon managed to carry Arthur inside and kick his shoes off, the other staying silent in his arms, making Francis think that he was still passed out, too drunk to realize what was going on. But as he tilted his head down to check that everything was okay with Arthur, that he wasn't trembling in cold or something, he was met by pair of fiery green eyes.

"Oh, Arthur, you are-"

He was cut off as the other reached up, smashing their lips together. Francis' breath hitched his throat and he felt like his heart didn't beat for at least a minute. It was like a dream come true, to have Arthur in his arms, kissing him so incredibly passionately. No matter how badly he wanted to use the chance, to kiss Arthur back with all the love he had towards him and feel his body against his own, he forced himself to pull away from the kiss. He couldn't take advantage of a drunken man.

"You are drunk, Arthur", Francis stated, mostly just to remind himself that he couldn't just capture Arthur's lips into a heated kiss, no matter how badly he wanted it. Keeping his gaze off of the Brit, he started to walk up the stairs.

"Frog… Just… One fuck…", the Englishman slurred, his fingers running up and down the other male's chest. He really was giving Francis hard time not to just push him up against a wall and take him right there. Arthur seemed to be upset as he didn't get an answer from the other one and so he leaned up, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over the Frenchman's neck, pretty much moaning every single time his lips made contact with Francis' skin.

"Stop it", Francis told him, yet there was a bit of hesitance in his voice. Arthur seemed to really want this, and he would be lying if he said he didn't want it too. Shudders ran down his spine as he listened to the noises the other man made and he had to bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from letting his hands roam all over the body in his arms.

"Francis….", the Brit murmured, making the Frenchman shiver at the way he said his name. There was so much need and want in that voice. "Come on… Just one night together… No one has to know…", he murmured, tilting his head up to kiss the other man's jawline.

It was indeed very tempting. Francis knew that if he would have sex with the drunken Englishman that night, no one would find out about it. It would be their little secret. But he was sure that when sober, Arthur would definitely hate him. He would call him a rapist. And even though it wouldn't be a rape, it still wouldn't be fair to make love to a drunken, defenseless person.

"Non", Francis said, even though the other's small kisses were making his heart beat faster, everything felt so hot. But he didn't give in, he knew he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to pleasure Arthur, to make him his own, he couldn't. Not when the only reason Arthur even wanted this was the alcohol he had drank earlier that evening.

Opening the door to his bedroom, Francis walked over to his bed and set the Brit down. Considering the wide, sultry grin on Arthur's lips, it wasn't hard to guess what the other thought was going to happen. For a moment it seemed like Francis was about to just press a kiss on the other man's forehead, but Arthur was faster than him. He grabbed Francis' collar, pulling him on top of him, and to be honest Francis wasn't resisting. Their lips soon met in a hungry kiss, and Francis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make himself believe this was only a dream and he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Arthur's hands were quickly removing the Frenchman shirt, and it didn't take long from Arthur's shirt to be tossed on the floor as well. His thoughts hazed by the other one's touch his skin, Francis tilted his head to kiss and suck on the Brit's neck, leaving small red marks on the pale, smooth skin. It was only when Arthur started to ground their hips together when he realized just what he was doing. Quickly ripping himself off of the other male, Francis stood up, practically running out of the room and to downstairs.

He honestly felt horrible. He had been so close to taking advantage of the drunken Briton, even though he had always promised himself to never to do. He had told himself not to ever, ever kiss the other or even hug him if he was drunk; he didn't want Arthur to hate him.

Feeling guilty as hell, Francis laid down on the couch, staring at nowhere for a long time before he managed to fall asleep, bothered with dreams of him doing horrible things to Arthur, and he woke up several times during the night.

Early in the morning, Francis woke up, feeling some weird wetness on his cheeks. As he reached his hand to wipe it off, he realized he had been crying in his sleep. With a deep sigh escaping his lips, he headed to the kitchen, making a cup of coffee for himself, and another one for the Englishman. Leaning against the kitchen counter and gazing out of the window to the gray streets, not many people walking by, he allowed more tears stream down his cheeks. Arthur was never going to forgive him, he was sure about it.

Too lost in his thoughts, Francis didn't hear the light steps walking down the stairs and towards the kitchen, nearly jumping as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. Turning around, he saw Arthur standing there, wearing the Frenchman's too big t-shirt, his brow furrowing.

"Francis… Why are you crying…?" the Briton asked, reaching his hand to gently wipe the tears away. Francis could feel his heart beat furiously against his chest. Arthur didn't seem to be able to remember anything from the last night, and he really didn't know if he should tell or not.

"I… I just… I didn't mean to… to… to go so far with you…", Francis found himself stuttering, the guilt obvious in his voice. He just wanted to go back in time and change everything.

Arthur rolled his eyes at that, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss on the other one's forehead, pressing himself against his chest. "You are such an idiot, frog… I was just coming down to thank you for not taking advantage of me…", he muttered quietly, moving his hand to gently run his fingers up and down the other's chest, keeping the touch innocent.

"Really…?"

"Yes… I… It made me realize that you really do care for me…", Arthur said quietly, feeling light blush appear onto his cheeks. He had never been the best when it came to talking about feelings, but for once he decided to be honest with Francis. After all, the Frenchman had proven that he was worth his trust.

"And I… I also have to admit that… I kind of… You know…", the Briton buried his face against the crook of Francis' neck, his cheeks burning with the blush. "Je t'aime."

Francis was sure he had never been as happy as he was at the moment he heard those words. His arms found their way around the other man's waist as he kept him close, pressing a sweet little kiss on the top of his head. "I love you too, Arthur, with all my heart", he whispered, and he was sure he could feel the other smile against his neck.

Tilting his head up, Arthur closed his eyes as he pressed the sweetest kiss upon the other man's lips, letting a small, content hum escape his lips. The kiss was soon returned by Francis, his eyes falling closed as they continued their sweet embrace, lips moving gently and lovingly against each other.

"Francis…", Arthur murmured softly against the other one's lips before slowly pulling away from the kiss.

"Mm?" the Frenchman hummed, running his hands through the other one's hair, smoothing it down a little bit.

"My head hurts like hell. Do you have any painkillers?" the other stated, grinning a bit up at Francis.

"Way to kill a mood", Francis said with a soft chuckle, stealing a kiss from the man's lips before he went to get the pills for Arthur.

And that night, Arthur didn't need to be drunk to want Francis to make love to him.


End file.
